


One, Two, Three

by 1863



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:29:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1863/pseuds/1863
Summary: Graham had always suspected that this would be the job that changed his life.  He just never expected to be quite this right.





	One, Two, Three

“Do you want to come in?” 

It’s not actually what Graham had intended to say but now that it’s out there, he doesn’t try to frame it with any kind of euphemism. They’re both grown men, they both know what he means. Richard’s always welcome to anything in his kitchen but they’re not sitting in the car in his driveway at ten to midnight because they want to share a cup of tea.

Richard hesitates. Or Graham thinks he hesitates. In the darkness, he can’t tell if Richard’s blushing but the way his gaze flicks up and then skitters away before Graham can make contact makes him think he might be. Graham just waits him out.

Eventually, Richard takes a breath.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think so.”

Something doesn’t sit right with Graham at the careful choice of words but he doesn’t want to push it, especially not here in the car where he can barely make out Richard’s face.

“Okay,” is all he says, and they both head into the house.

They’d been seeing each other, for lack of a better term, for weeks now, a couple of months at least. Graham’s not entirely sure when idle chats with a colleague turned into meals with a friend, and he’s even less able to pinpoint when that tipped over into regular dinner dates with a—whatever they were. He’s in his fifties; he refuses to use the word _boyfriend_. Neither of them have been boys in a long, long time.

He does remember, though, the first time he’d made a proper move. Graham is a man of action and when he’d declared himself, as it were, it wasn’t with words. 

They’d been in his trailer one afternoon during a break in filming, and Graham had pressed his hands against Richard’s shoulders and held him carefully against the wall. Richard had looked at him then, something dark in his eyes, and Graham had slowly leaned in, closer and closer, giving Richard all the time in the world to move away. But Richard didn’t move, and parted his lips instead, and when their lips brushed and Graham felt Richard’s breath against his mouth, it was like something he hadn’t known was misaligned unexpectedly clicking back into place. 

They haven’t done much more since, and Graham was fairly content to let things go along as they were. He’s a patient man and they’re all ridiculously busy, even without potential—flings, romances, whatever—to take up what little spare time they had. But there had been something in Richard’s eyes today, a sort of restlessness and heat, and it had Graham’s cock twitching all through dinner.

He flips the lock on the door and when he turns, Richard is watching him, that same expression on his face that Graham can’t quite decipher. Richard isn’t the most talkative person sometimes, and especially so when he can’t shake off his character, but Graham is fairly certain that this silence has nothing to do with Thorin at all.

He steps closer, just outside Richard’s personal space. 

“I—” Richard starts, and stops. 

Graham waits, and Richard takes a breath before looking up at him.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

It’s so unexpected that Graham just stands there, blinking at him.

“First door on the right,” he answers automatically, and Richard nods once before turning around and stepping through said doorway.

It’s a moment before Graham follows, and when he enters the room he sees Richard is standing by the foot of the bed, hands at his collar, but not undoing any buttons. There’s something else in his eyes now, something almost fierce, and again, Graham doesn’t understand. He does, however, know that something isn’t quite right, and while finally getting to see and taste and touch Richard is a prospect that’s making his jeans uncomfortably tight, he doesn’t want it at the cost of losing something more important. What that important thing is, he can’t really say, but he knows it’s something he needs to be careful with all the same.

“Hey,” he says, and covers one of Richard’s hands with his own. 

Richard looks up at him, some expression flickering across his face too fast for Graham to catch, and then suddenly Richard is surging forward, pushing Graham against the wall, mouth all but devouring his. 

He tastes like wine and the chocolate mousse he had for dessert, and Graham’s hands come up to frame his face, tongue pushing in hungry and instinctive and before he really knows what he’s doing he’s got their positions reversed—Richard is the one trapped against the wall now, Graham kissing him like a man starved for it. His hands slip down, fingers finding buttons and starting to twist them free.

And then Richard makes a noise, a tiny sound at the back of his throat, and Graham feels muscles tense where their bodies are in contact—chest and hip, calf and thigh.

He pulls back, just far enough to see Richard’s face, just in time to see a deep blush spreading across his face and down his neck.

“I—” Richard starts, avoiding his eyes. He’s panting, out of breath—they both are, and Graham tightens his fingers in the material of Richard’s shirt without really meaning to. There’s a sharp intake of breath and Richard shifts, pressing himself into the wall, and that’s what cuts through Graham’s haze of lust. Richard is trying to get away from him.

He steps back immediately, a sick feeling curling in his stomach, and runs a hand over his head.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, still breathing hard. “I thought—” he stops and forces himself to think through what he’s going to say. He falls back on a habit he formed when he was just starting his career and nerves threatened to overwhelm him, and counts the beats of his heart: one, two, three.

The pause makes Richard look up.

“I’m sorry,” Graham repeats. “I _didn’t_ think. I just… thought you wanted—”

“I do,” Richard suddenly blurts out. He flushes again and god help him, but Graham’s cock jumps at the sight. “I just—” He stops abruptly.

Graham gets his breathing under control before he speaks again.

“Too soon? Too fast?” he asks, and is relieved that his voice sounds calmer than he feels. The sense-memory is still fresh; the rush of pressing Richard into the wall, the heat of Richard’s body and that warm wet on mouth on his—

“No, it’s not that.”

Again, Graham waits.

“I… ah...” Richard says, then stops and shakes his head, looking frustrated by his own inability to articulate what he wants to say. Graham hesitates, then reaches out and rests a hand on top of his shoulder.

Richard looks up at the touch. 

“I just,” he starts again, “Can we just...”

“Anything you want,” Graham says immediately, and means it.

Richard watches him for a moment, searching his eyes, then steps forward and curls a hand around the back of his neck. He pulls Graham’s head down and presses his lips to the corner of Graham’s mouth, then shifts until they’re kissing properly, lips and tongue and a little teeth.

Graham lets Richard take the lead. Every movement is so thought-out and deliberate that Graham feels it like a buzz under his skin, a slow burn of intensity that has his cock throbbing and his heart pounding hard and fast. He raises his hands and runs them over Richard’s head, the scrape of his shorn hair adding to the heat in his veins, and then Richard moans into his mouth and Graham almost comes in his pants.

Graham breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against Richard’s shoulder and breathing harshly against his chest. He can hear Richard panting somewhere above his head, feels the hot puff of Richard’s breath against the shell of his ear and Graham has to close his eyes and try desperately to get himself under control.

“Graham,” Richard says breathlessly, the deep thrum of his voice going straight to Graham’s cock.

“Just… just give me a second, here.”

But he feels the tension spread through Richard’s body again and Graham lifts his head, resisting the urge to grab Richard by the waist and hold him in place.

“I’m sorry,” Richard is saying. “You want—”

“I want you,” Graham interrupts. “Just you.” He weighs the risk and presses a hand against the nape of Richard’s neck. Richard’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into the touch, and Graham suddenly wants him so badly his mind all but blanks out to everything else, the maddening nearness of Richard’s body the only thing he’s really aware of. 

Richard opens his eyes and presses a hand against Graham’s chest.

“Can I…”

His hand slides down Graham’s torso and stops at his belt buckle.

Graham swallows. “Yes.”

Richard takes breath, but freezes when Graham’s own hands reach out and slip under the waistband of his jeans. Graham stops, then slides his hands back up, until his arms settle around Richard’s shoulders. He leans forward until their foreheads touch.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

Richard licks his lips, gaze flicking up to meet his, and nods. 

With a deliberate slowness that would come off as teasing from anyone else, Richard undoes the buckle before unbuttoning Graham’s jeans and pulling the zipper down. He takes a breath, as though to steady to himself, then frees Graham’s cock with careful fingers.

The first contact has Graham gasping, and he closes his eyes and concentrates on not moving his hips into that uncertain touch. But then Richard’s grip tightens and Graham’s mouth drops open in surprise, a throaty moan escaping, and he can’t stop himself from jerking a little into Richard’s tight, hot fist.

“Graham,” Richard breathes. 

Their eyes meet and Graham finds himself unable to look away. The blue of Richard’s eyes is all but gone and when Graham licks his lips the hand on his cock starts to move with more confidence. He’s stroked in a steady rhythm and Richard’s breathing goes ragged as Graham’s thrusts get more pronounced.

Graham desperately wants to kiss him but doesn’t dare move, just clutches at Richard’s shoulders like he’s a lifeline, like he’s the only thing stopping him from being swept away. Richard strokes harder, faster, and now Graham can’t help it, moaning as his hips buck hard, hands sliding up to cup the nape of Richard’s neck. Richard’s head darts forward, stops just shy of Graham’s mouth, and somehow, improbably, Graham is able to keep from closing the distance and crushing their mouths together.

They stand there, panting against each other’s lips and staring straight into each other’s eyes as Richard’s grip gets tighter, Graham fucking into his fist and swiftly coming apart. Then Richard does some sort of twist with his hand at the end of a stroke, just behind the head, and Graham’s vision whites out. 

“ _Richard_ ,” he moans, shuddering, staring at the mouth that’s barely an inch from his. Richard does it again and Graham’s fingers spasm, digging into the back of Richard’s neck, and Richard’s answering moan tips Graham over the edge—he comes hard and sudden, eyes shut tight, come spilling out over Richard’s hand and striping his thigh, chest heaving as he tries in vain to retain some semblance of self control.

“God, Graham,” Richard whispers, and keeps stroking until Graham’s spent and shaking.

It takes him a moment to come down from the high but when he does, Graham reaches for Richard’s fly to return the favour.

“Let me,” he starts, but Richard backs away again, shaking his head.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Graham says, and something very near to panic flashes across Richard’s face.

“I have to go,” he says suddenly, and all but runs out of the room. Graham stares blankly at the empty doorway for a moment before doing up his jeans and hurrying after him.

He catches up just as Richard is about to open the front door and grabs his wrist, spinning him around. Richard goes very, very still. 

“You don’t have to go,” Graham says.

Richard stares at Graham’s hand, fingers still wrapped tightly around his wrist, and reluctantly, Graham lets go.

“I have an early call tomorrow,” Richard says.

Graham stares at him.

“So do I.”

Richard refuses to lift his gaze from the floor. He’s still hard, erection straining against the front of his trousers, and Graham’s fingers twitch when he catches sight of it, the need to touch almost overwhelming.

“We don’t,” Graham starts, then takes a breath. “We don’t have to do anything else. Hell, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want me to.”

Richard finally looks up. But something in his face is shuttered now and Graham briefly closes his eyes, knowing he’s somehow made a mistake.

“I have to go,” Richard repeats, and a moment later, he’s gone. 

Graham hears the sound of a car starting outside, then driving away, and for a few long minutes, all he can do is stand in the empty hallway and stare at the door, wondering what he’d done wrong and not having any idea how to make it right again.

~~~~~

They’re stupidly busy the next day, and every day for a week and a half after that. There’s barely any time to take a break and when there is, it’s a scant ten or fifteen minutes here and there, which are usually spent making a beeline for the bathroom or shoveling down whatever food they could get their hands on. 

Graham keeps an eye on Richard, but on set and in costume, the night at Graham’s house seems impossibly distant, like a half-remembered dream. They haven’t really spoken since and Graham is worried—really worried. Richard is on his mind pretty much all the time now, even when he’s working, a niggle at the back of his brain that clouds his eyes and shadows his thoughts.

“Graham. Hey. _Graham_.”

Fingers snap in his face and Graham blinks.

“What?”

Adam stares at him for a moment.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he says, and raises an eyebrow.

Graham shakes his head.

“It’s nothing,” he starts to say, but Adam just watches him for a minute and Graham has to resist the urge to fidget. As easy going as Adam was he was actually incredibly perceptive, and if anyone were to figure out what was going on it would probably be him.

“Fine,” Adam says. “Keep your secrets. But—”

“I think I read it in the Appendices,” Richard says to Ian as they walk past, and Graham’s head immediately turns towards the sound of his voice, staring after the two of them as they disappear around a corner.

“—I’ll probably find out eventually,” Adam finishes slowly.

Graham turns back to face him. Adam isn’t smiling, like Graham thought he would be. Instead, he looks dead serious. 

For a moment they sit in silence, Graham unsure how to explain while Adam just continues to stare at him, the expression on his face almost grave. And when Adam finally does speak again, it’s not what Graham expects.

“You sure?” is all he asks, eventually.

Graham sighs.

“No.”

And now Adam does smile. But it’s sympathetic, and not at all amused.

“Then god help you, mate.”

~~~~~

Graham only manages to find the time to corner Richard nearly three weeks after the night at his house. He waits until the rest of the cast have left, waits until Richard emerges from hair and makeup, and waits a further half an hour for him to set Thorin aside before finally stepping up to Richard’s trailer and knocking on the door.

Richard freezes for a moment when he sees Graham standing at the foot of the steps, and Graham gets the sense that it’s ingrained politeness more than anything else that gets him an invitation to come in.

The door closes behind them and Richard turns around to face him, though his eyes dart from side to side, looking everywhere but at Graham.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, and Graham just stares at him.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Graham asks incredulously. 

Richard hears the disbelief in his voice and finally meets his eyes.

“For—for running away,” he stammers, and looks confused when Graham shakes his head.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Graham says. Richard frowns. “I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted… what I thought you wanted. When I invited you in.”

Now Richard is the one shaking his head, and Graham gets the distinct feeling that they could end up talking at cross purposes all night. He’s not usually one for this sort of thing, preferring actions to words, but if it’s words that Richard needs, then Graham will try to find them.

“Listen,” he says, before Richard can say anything else. “I just…” 

He makes a helpless gesture with his hands, searching for the perfect phrase that will express exactly what he wants to say, that will explain to Richard exactly what he’s thinking. But there is no magical combination of words, Graham knows, and in the end, all he can do is give Richard the plain truth.

“I just want to be with you,” Graham says. “And make you feel good.” 

Richard’s eyes widen a little. His mouth opens and closes, and he stares at Graham as something intense sparks in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Richard repeats, and it sounds like a rejection; it feels like a blow. 

Graham swallows and nods, just once, and makes a move for the door.

“No!” Richard suddenly exclaims, blocking his path and pressing a hand against his chest. Graham is frozen by the feel of that palm against him, the warmth of it seeping in through his shirt. But Richard quickly takes his hand back and just stares at it, as though wondering why he’d reached out in the first place.

“Richard,” Graham says, as gently as he can manage. “I want to be with you,” he says again, “but I can’t do that without having a heart attack if I don’t know what _you_ want.”

Richard stares at him for a long, long moment. All Graham can do is wait, but eventually, something shifts in Richard’s eyes and he takes a deep, deep breath.

“I just wanted to get it over with,” he says in a rush, and it takes a little while for Graham to understand what he means. And when it does sink in, a wave of something like nausea hits Graham and he has to take a few deep breaths of his own.

“That was… your first time?” he asks slowly, and thinks about how he’d held Richard against the wall, how he’d shoved his tongue into Richard’s mouth and practically tried to tear his clothes off. The sick feeling intensifies. “Oh god,” he breathes. No wonder Richard had run off.

Richard must see something of his dawning guilt because suddenly his hands are at Graham’s face, cupping his cheek and jaw.

“Not exactly,” he clarifies. “I’ve slept with women before. But with men…” he trails off and flushes. “I’ve just, um. Fumbled around. A bit.”

“And you thought… what? That I’d just be—convenient?”

Richard flinches.

“ _No_ ,” he says urgently. “I don’t— That’s not— I mean I thought —” Richard stops and turns away, looking so distressed that Graham can’t help it, lifting his hands to touch Richard’s face, mirroring Richard’s hold on him. 

“You thought what?” he asks.

“I thought I was giving you what you wanted,” comes the quiet answer, and an odd rush of feeling sweeps over Graham, like something’s being washed away and replaced with something else entirely. Graham turns Richard’s head with careful fingers at his jaw, until they’re eye to eye and face to face once more.

“I’ve told you what I wanted,” Graham says. “But what do you want?”

Richard stares at him. Graham counts his heartbeats: one, two, three.

Richard leans forward and kisses him.

~~~~~

Graham lets Richard undress him, watches those long fingers divest him of his shirt and then his trousers and then, finally, his underwear. He’s already hard, has been since he felt Richard’s fingertips graze over bare skin, and he stands still and lets Richard look, lets Richard see what he does to him.

Richard looks up and meets his eyes. He’s flushed, and hard, and when he steps close enough to touch, Graham balls his hands into fists and forces himself to wait. Richard leans over and kisses him again, tongue brushing over Graham’s lips and Graham opens his mouth and lets him deepen it.

It turns desperate quickly, Richard’s hands digging into his bare waist, their tongues sliding against each other, and Graham’s control starts to slip the closer Richard presses into him. He ends up dominating the kiss, tilting Richard’s head back, and when his tongue starts to fuck into Richard’s mouth they both end up moaning and pulling each other even closer.

Graham walks them over to the bed but it’s Richard who lays down first, dragging Graham down with him, and it’s Richard who pulls Graham’s hands away from his face and presses them against his abdomen instead, pushing them under his shirt. It’s an invitation, permission given, and Graham moans into Richard’s mouth when his fingers finally make contact with the warm, smooth skin of Richard’s belly.

He breaks the kiss and pushes Richard’s shirt up, exposing his chest. The sight of his nipples, red and erect, has Graham licking his lips, but he carefully pulls Richard’s shirt all the way off before he does anything more. Even then, he waits, hand pressed against the centre of Richard’s chest. He can feel Richard’s heartbeat beneath his palm, a strong steady rhythm, and waits for Richard to nod before he lowers his head and kisses a nipple.

The reaction is immediate, a sharp intake of breath that turns into a moan when Graham flicks his tongue at the nub and starts sucking lightly. He feels Richard’s hands flutter against the back of his head and Graham does it again and again, alternates licking and sucking until Richard is panting and pressing up to into his touch.

Graham moves back up, cock throbbing at the feel of Richard’s bare chest sliding against his, and kisses him deep and slow. Richard’s hands trail over his back, ghosting over his arse, and Graham moans, hips jerking a little. He mouths at Richard’s jaw, spends long moments finding sensitive spots along Richard’s neck and throat, reveling in the sounds he gets when he nibbles at an earlobe. 

Graham’s hands slide down Richard’s sides and over his stomach, and he lets them rest at the waistband of Richard’s trousers while he trails kisses along his collarbone.

“Graham,” Richard breathes, shifting his hips. Another permission granted, and Graham thanks him with another deep kiss.

He licks a path down Richard’s torso before unfastening his jeans and slowly tugging them off. Richard watches him, looking faintly nervous but determined too, and Graham is suddenly gripped with the need to make both looks disappear, to replace them with pleasure and need and lust—to show Richard what he really meant, when he’d said that he wanted nothing more than to make Richard feel good.

Graham lowers his head and mouths at Richard’s cock through his underwear, licking at the thin cotton, sliding his lips against a delicious heat and hardness that makes his own cock throb.

“ _God_ ,” Richard chokes out in surprise, hands fisting in the sheets. He starts moaning, chest heaving, and the sounds spur Graham on, sucking and teasing until finally Richard’s hands settle, unsteady, against the back of Graham’s head.

Graham looks up. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband, and waits.

Richard stares at him, panting. And then, swallowing, he nods.

Graham pulls the underwear off quickly and crawls back up the bed. He hovers above Richard for a moment, staring down at his face. He’s flushed and sweaty, eyes feverish and intense, and unexpectedly, the sight makes Graham’s breath catch in his throat. He lowers his head, slowly, and when their lips finally meet, Graham settles himself over Richard’s body and they both groan at the sensation of skin on bare skin, at the heat and slide and press of muscle and bone.

Graham shifts until he’s got a thigh between Richard’s legs and deliberately rubs against his cock. Richard’s eyes roll back in his head and Graham now knows that the sight of Richard losing himself to sensation is a rare gift. He tucks the memory away before bending his head to press open-mouthed kisses along Richard’s neck, moving against him as Richard starts to move too. They find a steady rhythm and keep it up for long minutes, bodies moving in sync, their breathing turning ragged as their cocks line up and the intensity builds and builds.

Richard’s hands run restlessly over Graham’s shoulders, the feather-light touch just barely skimming his skin. It’s driving Graham mad and when Richard’s fingers move up to trace patterns into the back of his neck, some measure of his self-control breaks and Graham grabs Richard’s wrists, pressing them into the bed at either side of Richard’s head. 

Something flares in Richard’s eyes and it takes a moment for Graham to understand what it is. Even then, it leaves him a little breathless. 

He slowly tightens his grip and Richard’s hips thrust up, sudden and desperate, a small sound coming from the back of his throat. The sight makes Graham’s throat go dry, distantly thinking that he hadn’t known until this very moment that it was possible to be this turned on. 

Graham presses Richard’s wrists into the bed again and swallows Richard’s moan with a hard, forceful kiss. He doesn’t let Richard dictate the pace anymore, just licks briefly at the seam of his lips before pushing his tongue in and taking what he now knows Richard is offering him.

The response is intense and immediate. Richard’s hips buck up, moans rumbling from deep in his chest, whole body surging up to press against Graham’s. 

Graham breaks the kiss and moves down to lick at Richard’s nipples again. Richard writhes beneath him and moans again, louder this time, as Graham keeps a tight hold on his wrists.

“Graham, Graham,” he pants, and Graham pauses to look up at him. Richard looks wrecked, wrecked and beautiful, and Graham is seized with the need to know what he looks like when he comes.

He lets go of Richard’s wrists, running his hands over Richard’s chest and stomach, and stops just shy of his cock. 

Richard stares at him, chest heaving. There’s still a touch of uncertainty there but it’s diminishing rapidly as Graham slowly pushes his fingers into the hair at his groin.

“Yes,” Richard whispers. 

Graham holds his gaze as he wraps his fingers around his cock. He tightens his grip and Richard’s eyes fall shut as his mouth drops open, and Graham moves back up the bed and takes advantage of those parted lips. Richard kisses back immediately but breaks it with a gasp when Graham starts to stroke, breathing harshly against Graham’s neck as his hips start to move. Graham pumps harder, faster, the desire to see Richard come apart bordering on desperate. His own cock throbs but it’s a dull ache, secondary to the need to obliterate the anxiety in Richard’s face, the need make him see that there’s no reason to be afraid or ashamed—not here, not with him. 

Graham runs a thumb over the head of Richard’s cock and Richard bites his lip, eyes squeezed shut, thrusts getting shorter and harder and more erratic. Graham licks at the shell of his ear, rubbing himself against Richard’s hip.

“Please,” he breathes into Richard’s ear. “Let me hear you.”

A tiny whimper escapes, and Graham thumbs the head once more before suddenly gripping tight and stroking hard and fast, his own hips jerking as Richard cries out, unable to keep quiet under the sudden increase in speed. Then Graham’s free hand finds one of Richard’s wrists and he closes his fingers around it, squeezing tight enough to hurt, and Richard’s whole body tenses for one long, intense moment before his breath hitches and he comes with a gasp, shuddering against Graham’s chest as he spills out over Graham’s hand. 

Graham keeps stroking as he ruts against Richard’s hip, balls rising as he feels Richard coming apart beneath him, and when Richard turns his head and catches Graham’s lips, Graham is pushed over the edge too, coming all the harder when he feels Richard’s mouth smiling against his.

~~~~~

Graham wakes up with warmth pressed to one side of his body and cold air ghosting over the other. It takes him a moment to remember where he is. 

Weak sunlight filters in through the small windows of the trailer and he watches dust motes float in the air as he spreads his fingers over Richard’s bare hip. He’s still asleep, curled around Graham’s side, forehead resting against his shoulder. Graham looks at him for a long, long moment, taking in the tiny details that only a lover could know: the freckle behind his left ear, the smudge of eyelashes against his cheek, the way his skin looks in the morning light. Graham feels strangely calm, like a weight’s been lifted, and for the first time since the disastrous night at his house he feels something like optimistic.

Richard shifts, and Graham can actually feel it as he wakes up, the moment when Richard becomes aware of where he is and the fact that he isn’t alone. Richard starts to slide away from Graham’s arms but Graham stops him with a kiss to the temple—a brush of lips, nothing more, but Richard stills immediately and glances up at him.

“Good morning,” Graham says quietly, and when no answer comes he has to take a moment to try and quell the sudden knot of panic in his chest.

Richard stares at him. Graham tries to put everything he’s feeling into his eyes, everything he wants to say but isn’t sure how, and stares right back.

Richard flushes and looks away. Graham braces himself, holding his breath, and waits.

One, two, three.

“Good morning,” Richard answers softly, turning to face him again, and Graham wraps his arms around him and presses a smile into his neck.

~~~~~

“Greetings, old men!” Aidan says with a shit-eating grin, lifting his coffee mug in salute as they wander into craft services for breakfast. “Needed a bit of a sleep-in, did you? Old bones a little weary?”

Graham promptly swipes his mug and drains its contents in one long swallow.

“Ta,” he says shortly, and puts the empty mug back on the table.

Aidan sighs and stares at it forlornly while Dean and Adam laugh at him.

“Don’t mess with the big boys, Aidan,” James advises. “And stop giving my tea covetous looks, McTavish. Go get your own.”

“Ah, Richard, there you are,” Peter says as they return to the table with their own food—eggs and bacon and coffee for Graham, tea and toast for Richard. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Oh, sorry Pete,” Richard says, setting his things down. “I, uh…” He glances at Graham. “I slept in. Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Peter says quickly. “God knows you need the rest. I just wanted to talk to you about today’s scene before we started, that’s all.”

“Let’s do it now,” Richard offers immediately, but Peter shakes his head.

“Have breakfast first, it can wait.”

“No, really it’s fine,” Richard starts to say, but Peter interrupts him.

“Graham, make sure he eats,” he says, before his phone goes off and he hurries out with a wave.

“You heard the man,” Graham says, and pulls a chair out for him.

Richard blinks at him for a second before obediently sliding into the seat.

“Oh Graham, you’re so chivalrous,” James says, batting his eyelashes at him. 

“Only for Richard!” Aidan protests. “He never treats me that way, I can assure you. Just goes about stealing my coffee.”

“Richard must have done something to deserve special treatment.” 

Adam’s voice is light but there’s a clear question on his face as he watches Graham from the other side of the table. 

“Yes, he must have,” Graham replies simply, and eats a piece of bacon. He can feel Richard’s eyes on him but doesn’t turn to look. Instead, he shifts his leg and presses his thigh against Richard’s under the table.

Richard coughs, choking a little on his mouthful of toast. But moment later, Richard presses back and Graham hides a smile as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Like what?” Dean asks, shooting curious looks at them both.

“I gave him a good workout,” Richard deadpans, and Graham turns to face him, surprised. “At the gym,” he adds blandly, but his eyes are bright as he looks at Graham over the rim of his cup.

“Right,” Graham agrees, and tries not to laugh.

The conversation flows around them and Graham makes the odd comment here and there, but his mind is focused on the man sitting beside him. A smile spreads across his face at the warmth of the leg still pressed against his, but it’s nothing at all compared to the warmth in his chest when he looks over and sees that Richard is smiling, too.

And it hits him then, sitting at a tiny plastic table on the other side of the world from where he grew up, eating breakfast with people he considers close friends now but didn’t even know a year ago. He looks at Richard smiling, watches as he sips his tea and laughs at something Aidan is saying, stares at the tip of his nose and the slope of his eyebrows and the shadow of stubble on his cheek. 

Fifty years old, Graham thinks, gaze tracing the curve of Richard’s mouth. Fifty years old, and it still takes him by surprise every single time.

~~~~~

Graham sits on the bed in Richard’s bedroom and watches as he rummages through his closet and various open drawers. The block of location shooting is coming up soon and ever prepared, Richard is already starting to pack. 

They haven’t really talked about this thing between them but it hasn’t stopped or slowed down, and Graham doesn’t want to rock the boat. But the location shoot would change things—long days and nights on the road, endless hotel rooms, living in close proximity with dozens of cast and crew. No one else knew, except maybe Adam, but Graham trusted him implicitly and knew he’d never say word.

Richard picks up a well-thumbed Tolkien reference guide that’s the size of a brick and looks at it thoughtfully.

“You’re not really thinking of bringing that, are you?” Graham asks. “It’s a little unnecessary.” 

Richard looks up, and there’s something serious in his eyes.

“What if I need it?”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people you can go to instead.”

“What if I need something _here_ though, specifically?”

Graham frowns. 

“Someone is bound to know what you need,” he says. Philippa, for one, probably had the book memorised.

Richard sets the book down.

“I somehow doubt that,” he says, almost to himself, and Graham suddenly realises that Richard isn’t talking about the reference guide anymore. He abruptly wishes he were better at this, at the talking part, because that’s the part that Richard seems to need the most. 

“I’d like to,” Graham says slowly, not even really meaning to, and Richard looks at him sharply.

“Like to what?”

“Know what you need,” Graham says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but finds that there’s nothing else he can add.

“Graham,” Richard says, and his voice is so deliberately even that it has to be hiding something.

“Yes?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Richard swallows. “You already do.”

They stare at each other for a moment, before Graham stands and picks up the book again. 

“Maybe you should bring it after all,” he says, and there’s only the barest catch in his voice. “You might miss it.”

Their fingers brush as Richard takes the book from his hands.

“Yes,” Richard agrees, “I think I might.”

~~~~~

They’re sitting in some dodgy café in the middle of nowhere, hoping to wait out the storm that’s raging outside. There isn’t much room, not with thirty or so cast and crew crammed inside, but it’s the only place around for miles.

Graham sits a tiny table with Richard. Adam, Aidan and Dean are one table over, and behind them, James and Ian are chatting with some of the stunt team. 

“Reminds you of home, doesn’t it?” Graham asks, referring to the weather. Richard grins.

“Better company, at least,” he says, and ducks his head a little. 

Graham smiles, a little helplessly. The location shoot is equal parts exhilarating and exhausting, and tiredness and the sound of the rain pouring down has Graham feeling reckless, young even, and he reaches out to grab Richard’s hand. But Richard jerks away, glancing uneasily around him, and Graham freezes. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice pitched low so that only Richard can hear him.

“It’s all right,” Richard replies, a little stiffly. “I, uh, I just—”

“It’s nothing,” Graham interrupts, and refuses to contemplate whether or not that statement is accurate on more than one level.

Richard glances up. Something of what Graham is thinking must show on his face because Richard’s eyes widen a little before he looks away again.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hey hey hey, why the long the faces?” Aidan interrupts, leaning over to pilfer Richard’s half-eaten scone. “It might be pissing down outside but at least we’re stuck in a bakery,” he adds, stuffing the scone into his mouth.

“You want another one?” Dean offers Richard, giving Aidan a long-suffering look as he pulls his wallet out.

“Yes,” Graham says, watching Richard carefully. “Do you want anything else?”

Richard stares at him.

“I want what I’ve always wanted,” he says, slowly. There’s a slight edge of desperation in his voice and Graham goes still when he hears it.

“Uh, guys?” 

Dean is looking at both of them with a slight frown on his face. If Adam could figure it out then Dean certainly could, too—he was a photographer, after all. Dean always saw the tiny details that most other people missed. 

Graham stands abruptly. 

“I’ll get it,” he says, and heads for the counter.

When he comes back and pushes the plate over, Richard deliberately catches his hand.

“Thank you,” he says, and lets go.

“Is that what you wanted?” Graham asks, nodding to the scone. There’s a brief pause.

“You gave it to me,” Richard replies. “It’s exactly what I wanted.”

~~~~~

Given the disruption to the schedule because of the torrential rain, they get split up and have to stay in a number of different hotels. Richard and Graham end up at a lodge made up of several separate cabins.

“Why do they get the fancy digs?” Aidan had complained, when he discovered that he was being sent to a motel that overlooked a motorway.

“Perks of being old men,” Adam replied with a wink. “Their backs wouldn’t be able to take a cheap mattress.”

Graham sits on the bed in his cabin and stares at his hands. He isn’t really sure what either of them had said in the café, or tried to say, and is even less sure of what he’s supposed to do now. He wants to go over and see Richard, to get some confirmation that things are still all right between them, but he has no idea how to even ask.

A knock at the door startles him out of his thoughts. When he opens the door and sees Richard standing there, looking as unsettled as Graham feels, he’s somehow not surprised. 

“Come in,” he says, and shuts the door behind him.

Richard stands in the middle of room and takes a deep breath.

Graham watches, and waits.

Eventually, Richard walks over to him. For a long, long moment, neither of them speaks and neither of them moves. Graham just looks steadily into Richard’s eyes, not even trying to hide a thing, and eventually, something shifts in Richard’s face, some dawning realisation lighting his eyes. 

“Graham?” Richard says, and it’s one very specific question.

“Yes,” Graham replies, and it’s one very specific answer.

Graham leans forward, slowly, and starts to count his heartbeats as he moves, watching Richard watching him. One, tw—

But Richard meets him halfway.

~~~~~

They travel the length and breadth of the country, setting foot on land that has probably lain undisturbed for hundreds of years, seeing things so staggeringly beautiful that it’s easy to imagine they really are in Middle Earth, a million miles away from the real world.

Graham and Richard spend almost every night together, just to sleep and be near each other as often as anything else. And though seeing Richard’s walls come down a little more every time he’s pressed into the bed has something inside Graham igniting with a heady mix of relief and joy, it’s the quiet moments—the nights where all they do is sit on the couch and watch TV or eat mediocre room service together—that Graham knows he’ll remember best. 

They’re lying side by side now, doing nothing more than trying to get some sleep, both of them bone tired after another day of running around cliff tops and scrambling up mountainsides. Graham fits his body around Richard’s and pulls him close.

“Goodnight,” Richard murmurs, voice heavy as he starts to fall asleep.

Graham breathes against the back of his neck and closes his eyes, the warmth of Richard’s body easing away the aches of the day.

“Goodnight,” he replies, and barely a minute goes by before he’s asleep too.

~~~~~

It’s the end of the location shoot and it seems that they’ve saved the best for last. They’re somewhere so remote that they had to stay overnight in a field on top of a hill, in their trailers, no hotels or even any towns anywhere nearby.

Graham gets up early, stepping out of his trailer before he really needs to, dawn still just a faint pink glow on the horizon. A mountain range stretches out in the distance, peaks capped with snow and reflecting the growing light. The field they're in is impossibly green—a bright jewel shade that Graham thinks he’ll only ever see in New Zealand. He heads down the hill, wanting to see the view from the valley, enjoying the quiet stillness of the world this early in the morning.

He loses track of time as he looks out over the impossibly beautiful landscape. Graham thinks of the paths that led him here, all the strange coincidences and moments of serendipity in his life that somehow added up to this: to standing in a field in the middle of nowhere in the pre-dawn light, making a movie that will last forever, a man asleep in his bed who will be there again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. 

Graham had always suspected that this would be the job that changed his life. He just never expected to be quite this right.

“Hey,” Richard says, and Graham smiles, turning at the sound of his sleep-rough voice.

“Did I wake you?” he asks. Something warm blossoms in his chest when Richard steps into his arms without hesitation, wrapping his own arms around Graham’s waist.

“It’s all right,” Richard says. “I’d rather be out here with you.”

Richard can be oblique sometimes, it’s true, but other times he’s like this, saying things so simply and clearly that it takes Graham’s breath away.

He hears shouts of greeting from further up the slope, sees people silhouetted against the rising sun as they head down the hill. He starts to move away but Richard tightens his arms. The others will be there soon, and will see the two of them twined around each other sooner than that.

Graham watches him for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“I know,” Richard acknowledges, and frowns a little, as though he’s still trying to figure it out. He looks at Graham and blinks slowly. “I know,” he repeats, stronger this time, “and I think…”

“Yes?”

“I think that’s why I want to do it.”

Richard leans over and kisses him, and Graham kisses him back, and they both ignore the gasps and the catcalls and Aidan yelling something about how he knew it all along.

When Richard pulls back, the sun is a huge yellow disc behind his head, painting everything gold and blotting out the rest of the world. 

“Good morning,” Richard says, and smiles.

Graham smiles back.

Because it is. It really, really is.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hobbit kinkmeme.


End file.
